


A Place for Ourselves

by The13thBlackCat



Series: Maker, Know My Heart [6]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Emotional Baggage, Gen, Minor Cullen Rutherford/Male Inquisitor, Post-Game(s), Pre-Trespasser, minor angsting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2017-08-28
Packaged: 2018-12-21 02:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,675
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11934576
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The13thBlackCat/pseuds/The13thBlackCat
Summary: Leliana is exceptional at gathering information before she makes any world-changing moves--and in this particular case, the Inquisitor is a good source of information.





	A Place for Ourselves

   "You were in the Circle at Kirkwall, weren't you, Maenfen?"

   Maenfen's ears flicked and he glanced sideways at Leliana, mildly amused, as he always was when she asked personal questions.

   "You don't know that already?"

   Leliana chuckled in response, gently tapping her spoon against the rim of her cup. "Alright, yes, I knew that. But I wanted to ask. You disappeared after the Knight-Commander..." She trailed off, apparently uncertain what word to use to describe what Meredith had done, then continued after a moment, "Which is not surprising. A great many mages did. But most of them have stayed gone."

 _One way or another,_ Maenfen thought, his ears dropping as he glanced out his windows. He wondered how many of the mages he'd grown up with were still alive. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

   "I guess I'm lucky that way," he answered, his voice quiet. Leliana cocked her head at the response, then raised her tea to her lips, sipping thoughtfully.

   "I know Kirkwall was...harsh," she began slowly once she'd lowered her cup, and Maenfen resisted the urge to scoff. _**Harsh.** Indeed._ "But...you grew up there, didn't you? In the Circle? Was it not all you knew?" Maenfen looked at her, nodding once, and she added, "In light of that...would you ever go back?"

   Maenfen pursed his lips and said nothing. He returned his attention to his windows, staring out at the mountains surrounding Skyhold and trying to figure out if he should lie or not.

   After a few moments of internal debate, he answered, his voice low: "I would sooner die than go back to the Circle."

   Leliana straightened slightly in her seat, and he briefly regretted his tone _—_ it had been harsher, _angrier_ , than he'd meant it to sound. She set her cup down, and her voice was gentle when she next spoke. "It was that bad? You wouldn't even want to go to a different Circle? A better one, perhaps? Even if things were changed about it?"

   Maenfen let out a breath, then glanced at her with a sheepish, apologetic smile, clasping his hands. He looked away a moment later, choosing his words carefully. Very few people knew what Kirkwall had been like for him _—_ Cullen, of course, and Aetir knew a little. It was the past, and one he preferred to think of as little as possible...but he supposed that it was entirely possible for Leliana to find out the horrific details if she was determined to do so _(somehow)_ , so telling her probably wouldn't change much. At least he would _know_ she was poking around in his past, this way, and he could present it to her in a way he preferred.

   "Leliana, I...I spent my whole life thinking Kirkwall was normal," he began, his voice soft, "until I came to Ferelden. I wasn't in the Circle there, but I...visited." He hesitated for a moment, then decided not to explain how or why an apostate _—_ or even a Grey Warden recruit, as he'd officially been at the time _—_ would be visiting a Circle. "It was...a lot different from Kirkwall. A lot better. But it's still a prison, no matter how good it is."

   He sighed, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair. He pressed his fingertips together, and between his hands, space visibly warped; Leliana's eyes dropped to his hands, but she didn't shy away, and Maenfen couldn't help but be pleased with the reaction. Maybe she was only pretending to be at ease for his sake, but he doubted it _—_ she didn't seem to be the sort who was frightened by much. Even open displays of magic. 

   "My magic manifested when I was five years old, Leliana," he continued, gazing at the spot between his hands. The magic rippled under his skin, powerful and _beautiful._ "I never knew who my parents were, or if they're even alive. Maybe they knew what I was, somehow, and abandoned me on the Chantry doorstep rather than have a mage son. Or maybe they actually _wanted_ me, but _they_ were mages, and the templars took me away before I could even know them." He sighed, and his voice softened to barely more than a whisper. "I suppose I should be grateful I wasn't drowned at birth. How many babies are, just in case they _might_ be mages?"

   Maenfen shook his head a little, then continued, louder, "I've spent almost my entire life wondering what I did _wrong_ , that this happened to me. It wasn't until I met Aetir that someone told me I _wasn't_ a monster, that my magic was a _good_ thing, that I _deserved_ to be as free and happy as anyone else." He released the spell, and let his hands drop as it dissipated. "Not because I'd done something to earn it, but just because I was a _person_ , and people deserve that. You never heard that in Kirkwall." He swallowed. "Even when they didn't say it outright, you knew what everyone thought of you. You were a monster, a wild animal two seconds away from being put down. I'm not being poetic: that was the phrase the templars used about us, all the time. You didn't execute a mage. You 'put them down.' Like a rabid dog. It was a joke to some of them." When he finally looked up to meet Leliana's eyes, he had to swallow against the unexpected tightness in his throat, and his voice was quiet again. "Do you know what it does to a person, to hear that every day of your life? To _believe_ it, as much as you believe the sky to be blue?" Maenfen shook his head again. "No. I'm never going back to the Circle, and I would never ask anyone else to. Maybe it _could_ be reformed, but...I don't trust the Chantry to do it. It's too easy for them to forget they don't exist to punish us for something we can't help and never asked for."

   Leliana didn't answer at first, her brows pulling together a little as she looked at him _—_ studied him, he thought. Finally, she nodded, once. "You remind me of an old friend," she said simply. Maenfen looked at her as she picked up her cup again, and wondered who she meant.

   He thought he knew.

 

* * *

 

   When then news came, it was all Maenfen could do to keep from collapsing on the spot in shock.

   Of course, he’d known something of the new Divine’s plans, but she kept her secrets close, friend or not. In any case, he hadn’t expected the rest of the Chantry to let her do what she planned, regardless of who she was.

   But then, Leliana _—_ now Victoria _—_ had a way of getting what she wanted, and making other people think they wanted it too.

   He closed the door to his room, trying not to reel. He hadn’t realized he was moving until he stopped on his balcony, staring at the mountains without seeing them.

   The Circles had been abolished.

   He repeated the phrase in his head, but it didn’t sound any more real, no matter how many times he thought it.

_The Circles had been abolished._

   Certainly, there were people unhappy with the decision _—_ but it was law now. What more could be done about it? Mages had the right to govern themselves outside Chantry rule, and there was already talk about forming their own organization to make use of the former Circles’ resources. The planning was hesitant, cautious, and _hopeful,_ like none of them could quite believe in their new freedom. Like they all expected to wake up and find out it was a terrible, impossible dream.

   Maenfen felt his knees tremble and he dropped to them, clinging to his staff for support. The Circles had been _abolished._ They were _gone._

   No mage ever had to go back. _Never again._ He would make sure of that.

   “Maenfen?”

   Maenfen looked up sharply when he heard his name, jerked out of his thoughts. It was Cullen, who went to kneel by him with a worried expression. Maenfen stared up at him, blinking rapidly and wondering why he looked so concerned. _Did something happen? What—_

   “Why are you crying?” Cullen reached up, gently touching his cheek, then took hold of his shoulder, as if to steady him. “Are you alright? What’s wrong?”

 _I’m…?_ Maenfen pulled back a little, finally realizing how stuffy his nose had gone and how chilled his cheeks were. _Oh._ He wiped at his eyes, taking a breath. “Nothing’s wrong, Cullen. I’m sorry.”

 _Maker, how he must have looked when he stumbled out of the meeting._ He could barely remember it, so he was sure he must have looked at dazed as he felt. No wonder Cullen had been worried.

   “Then what is it?” Cullen tilted his face up, and Maenfen forced a weak smile—and then, after a moment, he didn’t have to force it, and then it was all he could do to keep from grinning like an imbecile. He pulled Cullen against him, burying his face in his shoulder to hide it.

   “You wouldn’t appreciate it, ser,” he answered, muffled against Cullen’s shoulder, because he knew it was true. Cullen was much gentler than he had been once, much more understanding, but there would always be a little bit of templar in him, no matter what.

   “Try me,” he answered, sliding his arms around Maenfen and squeezing his shoulder gently. Maenfen swallowed, took a breath, and even though he knew it would be smarter not to say anything, he did.

   “They’re _gone,_ ” he whispered, and he wasn’t sure how well Cullen could actually hear him. “We don’t have to go back. _Ever._ ”

   Quietly, he expected Cullen to pull away, or say nothing because he didn’t want to ruin the moment, or worst of all—remind Maenfen that he thought it was an absurd, _dangerous_ idea to abolish the Circles. Instead, he just pulled Maenfen tighter against him, and said only,

   “No. You don’t.”


End file.
